


Lost in Time

by SapphireSassenach



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:01:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSassenach/pseuds/SapphireSassenach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire was pregnant with twins as she went back through the stones before Culloden. Now, faced with a modern world that is in ruins from another war, she must go back through time with her and Jamie's children to ensure their safety. But they might not all end up in the time they want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original Anon prompt, which I seem to have deleted (Sorry!), was that Claire was pregnant with twins when she went back through the stones before Culloden. So, here is my interpretation of that. Enjoy!

“Mama, I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going…home.”

“Home? But home is where we left!”

“It’s not there anymore. Remember the bombs? This is our other home, Lallybroch. It’s safe. You’ve never seen this home before. Your… father is there.”

“But, you said Daddy was gone!”

“Frank, yes. This is your real father, remember?”

“Our rweal Daddy is in the stone?”

“In a way, loves. Now, promise to not let go of my hand or each others. Hold tight.”

“I Promise.” “Prowmise, Mama.”

“Do you have the pearls?”

“Yes, in my pocket. I won’t lose them!”

“Now, I want both of you to put your hand on the stone the same time I do, ready?”

“I’m scared!” “The stones are screaming!”

“I know, loves. But just trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you both. Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Yes!”

“One…two…three!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Jamie's mindset...

Jamie sighed deeply and relaxed his shoulders as he was met with the warmth of fire and the smell of onions and peat surrounding him as he walked through the door. 

Home. 

Though, Lallybroch was sorely lacking even the basic of necessities during the famine, it was still leaps and bounds better than the chill of his cave.

He had finished skinning the stag he had brought down and was bloodied and muddy from calves to cheeks. He hoped Jenny wouldn’t see him or she would have a fit about him getting muck on her precious rugs. He hadn’t been due back to the house for a few weeks yet, but the stag presented a good excuse to make the trek home. Even though Fergus would have been able to bring the meat home, Jamie needed human contact once more.

He quickly stoked the fire in the kitchen and set about getting the meat cooking.

The chair creaked under him as he sat down a few minutes later, letting the feeling of peace settle into his bones like a tonic, easing him of the pain that came along with his isolation.

It could be worse, he thought. The family could be starving. At least if he had to live out this purgatory without his wife and child, it gave him some comfort that he was able to do even a little to provide for his sister and her children. And his Fergus. The closest thing to a son he would ever know.

Without conscious thought, he reached up to his neck and rubbed the beads of the rosary Jenny had given him before going to war. Let her be safe, she and the child.

 

“Jamie?”

Looking up from his prayers, he saw his sister standing in the doorway with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“We didna expect ye until later this month.” She came around and placed a hand lightly on the hand he was tightly clutching the rosary with. “I’m sorry. I didna mean to interrupt your prayers.”

Jamie smiled and patted her hand. “Ye did no such thing. I caught a stag and I needed to skin it before the meat went bad,” he nodded to the fire where the meat was roasting.

He heard her stomach growl at the sight. It had been a good many weeks since everyone in the house went to bed with their bellies full.

“Good, that will do for nearly a week! I could even make a pie!”

Jamie’s own stomach rumbled at the thought of a meat pie.

“What are ye doing up at this time?” He asked to make his own belly forget about the smell of roasting meat.

“Kitty was sick earlier and I was making sure she was sleeping easy when I smelled the food.”

Jamie touched his beads again. “Is she alright?”

Jenny nodded and sat down in the stool next to him. “Aye, she’ll be fine.”

A small amount of relief went through him as he heard this. What would he do if someone in the family got ill? There was nothing to be done. He would be helpless to them. The only healer Lallybroch had ever known and would most likely ever know was gone. And never to return. A spasm of grief went through his body like a musket ball. In a way, it was harder to deal with his lost wife’s absence in the house. A place where they had lived happily together as a family. As the laird and lady.

He could almost see her coming down the stairs, her curls framing her face as she walked towards him with a smile. He saw the two of them stealing kisses in front of the fire when Mrs. Crook had her back turned. He saw her in the potatoes that were keeping their family alive, her healing touch still with them even after she was not.

In the cave – a place she had never been – it was a bit easier. He thought of her and their child always, but it was easier to bare in a place she had not been and would never be.

“You’re thinkin’ about her. Claire. That’s who ye were praying for.”

He glanced up sharply at his sister. She had disappeared from his sight as the past had overwhelmed his senses. Unable to face her gaze, tender and sorrowful, he looked to the fire. The orange and blue flames dancing around in a hypnotic dance.

“Aye,” he answered simply.

“She’ll always be wi’ ye, brother. She lives in the walls of this place, just as Mother and Father do. She lives on in everyone here. Not only through her healing, but from her mind. The potatoes have kept us from starving more than once.”

Moisture threatened to escape his eyes as he clenched his fists to try and reign in his emotion. He never talked of Claire to Jenny. Or to anyone. Even Fergus, who had known her as a motherly figure, had stopped trying to talk get him to talk of her. Perhaps, he spoke to Jenny. He hoped anyway.

“The suffering is too much to bare sometimes,” he whispered, eyes still fixed on the fire.

Jenny made a small noise and reached over to grasp his hand tightly. “I ken, brother.”

“No, ye don’t.” He felt a tear escape the corner of his eye and he made no move to wipe the evidence of his ache away. The ache of the last four years without her. The ache of sending her away.

“Ye have Ian and your bairns. And ye didna ken what it’s like to lose one. Not once, but twice.”

Jenny started at that, leaning back a little as she absorbed the words. She looked down at her hands as she wrung them in her lap.

“No, I dinna ken that kind of pain. But I do know pain, Jamie.”

He stood and walked to the hearth fire. His eyes overflowing from the pain and the smoke. The weight of his heart was too heavy and he needed to release it before it became all too much. Before he had to go back to that awful hole in the earth.

“She was with child, when I…when she went.” His hands clutched the mantle for support as he remembered that last night with her, cradling the child, whispering his love to her belly while she slept. The only words he would ever speak to him. And though he knew it impossible, he wished that somehow the bairn would remember his voice, somewhere in the deepest part of their mind, when they needed it the most.

He took a shaky breath in as he fought to speak through his thick throat. “And we lost our wee Faith in France.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Jenny whispered and came over to hug him tightly from behind as he wept into the flames.

She rubbed his back in a soothing manner as he fought for control. The control he desperately needed least he fall to pieces and into oblivion.

Jenny took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, an anchor in the misery he was drowning in.

“Come wi’ me.”

 

They stood in the Laird’s study with a few candles lighting the room from the darkness. Jenny reached up and grabbed the large book that his father had started when he and mother moved here. She brought it over to the light and opened it to the family tree.

Jamie glanced at her for a moment, wondering what her mind was up to before glancing down at the page himself, seeing both his mother and father’s script.

He saw the dates of Willie’s birth and death. His own birth and Jenny’s. And his father’s hand that recorded the death of his little brother and his mother.

And then the breath went out of his body and he feel to his knees as they failed to support him. Underneath his name and Claire’s –which he had added as soon as they came home the first time after she chose him at the stones – he saw his wife’s neat script.

Faith Fraser.

 

He bowed his head as he traced the lines left behind her. One of the only tangible things he had to remember her by. He could picture her here, fighting back tears as she wrote their daughter’s name.

“Ye see, they aren’t gone, Jamie. They will live on as long as we do.”

And then, Jenny dabbed a quill into the ink pot and added a name next to Faith’s.

Baby Fraser

And with that he simply grabbed onto his sister and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

“I say we go back and give that Jean-

“Jean the barmaid or Jean the whore?”

“Either one.”

The men clucked as they trotted along the forest. The path was -for the most part- unknown to the lobsterbacks and they would rather not get caught by a patrol as they rode.

“There! See, I told ye it was there, ye bugger.”

The old ruined cottage next to the hill lay head of them in the distance. The fairy hill, it was called by many, where the Auld Ones lives.

“Aye, aye. Let’s go rest the horses, but we canna linger long. The dragoons may be near.”

A chill went down Adams spine as they neared the hill, surrounded by mist and rocks, making the place fit the myths of the fairies that lived there.

His friend took notice of his fear and smiled a toothless grin and leaned over to gab him in the ribs.

“Ye afraid of the Auld Ones, are ye now?”

Adams jammed him back as they dismounted. “Dinna jest about em’, Malcom!”

And as if the fairies heard the insult, a piercing cry rang from the top of the hill.

“Bride save us,” Adams whispered as he blessed himself. “Perhaps, we shouldna linger after all.”

Malcom squinted up at the stones, unhindered by the cries. He wasn’t all so sure there was such a thing as a fairy, though his Mam- God rest her soul- would go to lengths to leave little charms around the house so the creatures would leave their family be.

As he caught a flash of red in the mist, he made a distressed noise and stepped for a closer look.

Adams pulled him back, urgently. “Stop it, man!”

Malcom shook his friend’s grip off as he stared in disbelief at the hill, rubbing his eyes to make sure they weren’t deceiving him.

“Christ, they are no fairies. They’re…bairns. Do ye no see the two of em’?”

Not waiting for answer from his friend, he marched up the hill until he saw them closer up, huddled together.

He approached the small children slowly. He had four of his own bairns and he couldna leave these two at the mercy of the English if they should happen upon them. 

They were holding onto each other tightly, a dark-haired lass and a red-haired laddie. They looked the size of his youngest- his wee Anna- who had turned four in his absence from their home.

They looked at him wide eyed as he came into their view, taking in his dirtied body and tattered clothes. His heart hurt at the terror on their faces as they shook together. He crouched down to their level and tried to make his face as pleasant as possible despite it being covered in filth.

“Good day to ye,” he bowed his head slightly as the appraised him. “My name is Alastair Malcom, at your service.”

The dark-haired lass’ lips trembled as she held her brother’s hand tightly. “Do you know where our Mama is?”

Her voice was strange, a queer accent. Strange clothes for bairns as well. No, from Scotland then. Malcom tried to hide his sorrow for them. Orphaned they must be, poor buggers.

“No, me wee lass, I’m afraid I don’t.”

The lass looked down as more tears ran down her face. The laddie patted her on the back, a little to hard to comfort. Malcom admired the way they looked after each other at such a young age, he hoped his own weans would do the same.

The red laddie’s light eyes looked up at him, taking in his sword and dirk that he carried on his belt. “Do you pway too?”

“Play?”

The boy nodded to his sword. “I got one last Christmas. To pway pirates.”

Well, perhaps in was in their best interest to have no parents if they gave daggers out to their wee ones. Malcom sighed. Christ, his Tammy wouldna forgive him for bringing two more mouths to their already scarce table.

“Do ye have any family? People to mind ye?”

The lass wiped her nose on her sleeve and Malcom quickly pulled a cloth from his sleeve and helped her blow her nose.

“Our Mama came with us here, but we can’t find her.”

“Do ye have a Father?”

The weans looked at each other, sharing a look far beyond their years. Where in the devil did they come from? The boy looked at him from under his red lashes, shyly.

“Our second Daddy is supwosed to be here.”

Second father, Christ. Maybe he didn’t want to know where they came from.

“Do ye ken where he lives?”

The boy looked at him panicked as he started to cry in frustration. “I can’t rwemember!”

He quickly grabbed the two of them in his arms as he thought what to do. He couldn’t leave them, the lass looked too much of his Anna for that. Lord in heaven, he could-

“I rwemember! It’s called Lallwybroch! That’s where Mama said he is!”

He looked at the lass in astonishment. Lallybroch? He kent it well. He had met the Laird before, a long while back. Fraser. His red son had fought in the rising.

“Good job, lass.” He tapped her under the nose and turned back to where Adams stood, watching them a few feet away with his mouth wide open and huge eyes.

“Looks like we’ll be havin’ company on the trip back.” He turned to the bairns and held out his hands.

The laddie looked stricken at the hand and frantically stood up and moved away. “No, we can’t leave without, Mama!”

The lass stood with him and stamped her feet hard. “We need Mama!”

Malcom took a deep breath and gently held his hand out again. “Yer Mam would want ye safe with your Da. I promise that she will find ye once there.”

He hated to lie to them, but what other way was there? Their Mam clearly wasn’t coming back any time soon and they would likely freeze in the meantime.

They both looked reluctant, but eventually gave in to him with the promise their Mam would find them somehow. Malcom stood and picked them both up, one on either hip and turned back to the little rested horses. 

“Alright, let’s bring ye to Da.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Now, hand me the flour, Maggie.”

Her eldest daughter quickly darted to where they kept what little flour they had. Maggie had been her shadow for the last few months, following behind her every step.

They were making a pie from the last of the meat that Jamie had brought them. He had sacrificed so much and she wanted to do something special for him in gratitude. Her brother and his lost wife were most likely the only thing that kept her and her family fed. Even a simple gesture, like making his favorite pie, made her feel like she was doing something to give back.

She felt a small pain when she though of Claire, her good sister. She hadn’t realized how much she had cared for her and welcomed her presence until she was gone. The only female that she had ever been close with since mother had died so many years ago.

“Here, Mam!”

She smiled at her daughter and ran her hand down her wavy dark hair. “Thank ye.”

They were just finishing the crust on the pie when they heard excitement outside.

“Mam!” She turned to see wee Jamie running to her, his growing legs sprinting at full speed as he panted.

“What is it?”

He caught his breath as he pushed his sister out of the way to get to her. “Da sent me to fetch ye. He says ye need to come out to the front straight away!”

She leaned down to Maggie and kissed her on the top of the head. “Put the pie in the plate in the oven, aye?”

Maggie’s eye grew bright and excited at the thought of doing such a task on her own. “Yes, Mam!”

Her heart was starting to beat hard in her chest as she moved past her eldest child and scurried to the front door. Was it the Red Coats? Had they caught Jamie? Her breathing grew erratic as her eyes were met with the bright sun as she walked out the door, temporarily blinded.

Small Jamie scurried out in front of her as she waited the few seconds for her eyes to adjust.

The chickens were running about outside, angry that their feeding was interrupted. She looked over the entrance and saw her husband standing next to two men on horseback. None of their tenants, but certainly Scots. She sent a quick prayer to the lord in thanks.

She started to walk towards the men to greet them when Ian reached up to grab something on the horse. A flash of red, so bright against the sun. The breath went from out of her as she clutched the table nearby. The small boy looked the spit of Jamie when he was a laddie. Eyes transfixed on the boy, she didn’t notice the wee lass until the other man on the horse picked her up.

What the devil?

Ian saw her from the corner of his eye and reached down to take the lass with dark curls hand while clutching the boy against his hip.

She stood frozen as he walked to her, unable to form any coherent thoughts.

The boy buried his head in Ian shoulder, shy and timid. The lass clutched Ian’s wooden leg as she stared up at her in curiosity.

She met Ian’s eyes, and he smiled at the shock in hers. His own eyes bright and gleamed as he glanced down at the weans. Reimagined versions of her brother and his lost wife.

“Send Fergus to fetch Jamie. Now.”

 

 

Jamie was sitting on his favorite rock by the cave. The one place near the cave that gave him any sort of solace. Even at the beginning, when he came here after his leg had healed enough. He brushed the scar with his maimed hand through his breeches, cringing in remembrance. The rock gave him peace as he started up at the blue sky, an usual sight. Spring has come, he mused.

It was then he heard someone running in the woods, their feet crackling under the old, dead winter leaves. He froze and then ducked behind the rock. It was most likely Fergus or small Jamie. He sat back up at the sight of the dark hair running towards him, Fergus then.

“Milord! Milord!”

His heart raced as he neared. Had someone died? Were patrols about?

Fergus arrived at the rock and bent over gasping, clutching the stone for support. He made a sound in the back of his throat at this and reached over to grasp his shoulder hard.

“What is it, Fergus? Is it Jenny, Ian, the bairns?”

Fergus stood straight and looked him in the eyes. “No, Milord. No one is hurt, but you must come to the house right away. Your sister demands it.”

No one hurt? Sick then and Jenny didn’t want to worry him? Or perhaps some problem had arisen with the crops, but Ian could most likely handle that. But if Jenny sent the lad to run for his life after him, it must be important enough to risk going in the daylight.

“Alight, let’s go then.”


	5. Chapter 5

Fergus stopped short and motioned for him to go ahead to the front yard of the house.

He quirked an eyebrow at Fergus in question as the lad motioned him to go ahead of him into the front door of the house. He tapped his stiff fingers against his leg as he walked in the house, torn between running to find Jenny and wanting to prolong his walk in case what lay ahead of him was unpleasant.

No one was about and it was eerily quiet in the house. No maid running about. No bairns playing. A queer feeling went down his spine. There were mumbling voices coming from the living room that gave him slight relief. Odd, he thought.

No one was usually there during the day time, even the weans had chores to do around the grounds. Not much time for leisure. Then again, he didn’t really live in the house anymore, he thought with a pang to his heart. He didn’t know what went on.

“Mama gave me these!”

He paused outside in the hall way, only a few steps from where everyone seemed to be. Not a lass’ voice he recognized. Certainly not Kitty or Maggie, but young. None of the tenants had a daughter that young sounding.

“Ah dia,” he heard Jenny say. Surprise and astonishment in her voice.

Finally, he stepped slightly into the room and Ian saw him enter immediately from where he sat near the hearth. The expression on his brother-in-law’s face as he looked at him was puzzling. That same kind smile and warm face, but with a twinkle in his eye as he looked to him. And there was nothing much to put a twinkle in your eye in these days.

What in God’s earth?

 

Slowly, his eyes drifted to where his sister sat on the ground with one bairn on either side of her. Their heads were turned away from him, focused on something in Jenny’s hand. For an instant, he though that’s what he and Jenny must have looked like as children. The lass had dark brown curls and the laddie had a shock of red hair, similar to his own.

Odd, two strange children. Perhaps, they were starved and Jenny took them in. Not that they had much to give.

In Jenny’s hand, he saw a flash of white and gold, and he felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. His knees shook and a strangled gasp left his mouth as he clutched the wall for support.

Three heads turned at the same time to this noise and he dropped to the floor at the sight that greeted him.

Jenny slowly got up and walked to him as small Jamie distracted the weans with one of Kitty’s toys. They could not see him in the shadows, but Jenny knew.

“Jamie,” she whispered and knelt on the ground next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Jenny,” he rasped, his eyes not seeing her, but still fixed on the bairns. The boy that looked his clone. Red curls, blue eyes. And the lass. My god, twins.

Tears flowed down his face silently as he looked at her. He should have known. Those untamable curls, surrounding her sweet little face. And for that brief second he would never forget, he saw her golden eyes. Claire’s eyes. And in her wee hand were the pearls he had placed on Claire’s neck the night of their wedding.

He felt a hand urging his face away from them. Jenny put both palms on either side of his face and his stricken eyes met his sister’s as she held onto him. The only thing stopping his body from running over and wrapping the weans into him.

“Jamie, listen to me,” she urged. “I didna know where they came from. A few men brought them here…from the fairy hill, he said.”

She turned to look back at them as they played with the wooden horse he had carved himself for wee Jamie when he was smaller. A smile graced Jenny’s face as he turned back to her, and he saw tears glistening in her eyes as well. Tender and happy.

“I didna ken anything, Jamie, but they are yours. Yours and Claire’s, obviously. The lass is the spit of her. And somehow, by the grace of God himself, they are here.”

The last of her words faded into the fog of his mine. His brain had blocked everything out as soon as he heard the words yours and Claire’s.

Yours and Claire’s.

Ideas and words flew through his mind as his world focused on those two little bodies on the ground. It had been over four years since he had sent her back to her own time. They were only three years old.

He traced the backs of their heads with his eyes over and over again. The wee stray hair the laddie had, sticking up from his head. The one he had. A stray dark curl wrapped around the lass’ neck.

Claire. Where was she? Was she here?

His thumb gently traced the faded C on his hand. He was just about to ask Jenny when the lass turned her head to him.

And then everything faded away and he felt himself taking steps to them, without thought or without meaning. He felt as if he was floating to them, being pulled by something he didn’t understand, nor needed to.

Her whiskey colored eyes appraised him as he came closer. So like her mother’s. Eyes he hadn’t seen in four long years.

She made no move to come closer, but did not seem scared as some children were of his presence.

And then the small red head turned and he met his reflection in the pool of blue eyes. He dropped to his knees by them, unable to control his emotions as tears streamed down his face. Silent sobs were raking his body as he fought the impulse to grab them both in his arms and never let go.

The laddie turned to his sister and then back to him. Slowly, he got up to his feet, wobbling slightly. And again he fought the urge to touch him. Tears fell down his face as he looked into his son’s eyes. His son! A dhia!

He came within a step of his large form and reached out his wee hand. Jamie almost wanted to step back, afraid that if he felt his touch, he would disappear from him.

But his hand lightly touched underneath his eye, brushing his sticky fingers across his face and to his hair and then gently touched the corner of his own blue eye. The same exact shade as Jamie’s.

A small smile came to his face as he glanced back to his sister, her wide eyes watching their every move.

“You really daddy.”

And then he could fight it no longer. He reached out and snatched him too his body, wrapping one arm tight around his body and reached the other hand to the lass as she jumped up to him as well.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment and nothing else existed. There was no fear, no pain, no sadness, no loneliness. Just joy.


	6. Chapter 6

Even before Claire became aware of herself, she knew something had gone horribly wrong. The sense of warmth that had surrounded her when she held the twins hands was gone. Ever since their birth, her cold heart that had stopped feeling when Jamie sent her away, was brought back to life as soon as she held them in her arms after they were born.

She remembered the overwhelming sense of peace that she felt when gazing upon her newly emerged children. Such a miracle Jamie had given her, not only one child to remember him by, but two precious gifts. The day she found out at her doctor’s appointment had sent her into a state of disbelief and shock, but her icy heart couldn’t find room to panic at the thought of raising two little ones without the love of her life.

But all that ice evaporated immediately when she saw them look up at her with their father’s eyes. A breath taking son that had his red mop exactly and a beautiful daughter that echoed herself. Their little boy was born first, so as promised, she named him Brian. And the little girl with the dark curls didn’t have a name for about a week after she was born as her eyes turned more to match Claire’s.

She didn’t know what Jamie would have liked a daughter to be named, they never discussed it. Even in her first pregnancy, the didn’t talk of girls names and her Faith was named by nuns. This precious daughter looked so much like her sister, Claire’s heart hurt to see her thrive and remember the stillness of her first child. She wanted something to honor Jamie and something of herself.

Jamie’s mother’s name had been Ellen, she remembered, known for her beauty and strength. Claire’s own mother had been named Julia. She didn’t know what her mother was known for, but all she remembered was a soft touch and a warm smile.

The longing to have both women remembered in their granddaughter was the only gift that she could ever give to them. The comfort of their blood living on and thriving in a child who had something of the both of them. And so the name Ellena came to Claire. A unique name combined of the past that would serve the future.

Frank had fussed a little about the name, but in the end, let her do as she wished. And they had replaced that cold dead thing in her chest with a strong, living heart again. A warmth on either side of her to remind her she wasn’t alone. Jamie’s last gift of love to her.

The fact that the warmth was gone as she opened her eyes on the hill, scared her like nothing before. Her heart immediately began pounding in her chest and her palms were sweaty as she the bright sun blinding her. Maybe she wasn’t even in Scotland with sunshine like that.

Immediately, she sprung up and threw her hands out to either side, searching and finding nothing. Her breathing became erratic as a full blown panic attack came over her.

They aren’t here, her mind told her.

“No!” She cried as she frantically leapt up from the sun warmed ground. “Ellena,” she screamed as loud as she could, “Brian!”

There was no other sound but the wind and the echoes of her own desperate voice, filled with terror and pain. She ran behind every rock on the hill, trying to see if they were injured and not responding, but nothing. She was utterly alone.

The sunshine made everything look greener and full of life, the grass glistened and the flowers swayed in the breeze, a stark contrast to her bleak outlook on the world at this moment.

God, what have you done? They could be lost to you forever, lost in some unfamiliar place and time. They are gone.

Her mind spun out of control as she lost her footing and collapsed, wrapping her arms tight around each her core to try and keep herself from tearing into pieces. The sobs that ripped out of her were painful and hard, she couldn’t contain them.

After finding out Jamie had survived Culloden, she thought that there was a possibility she could reunite with her love and have him meet their precious children. And then, their world became too dangerous to contemplate waiting to plan it out. They needed to flee.

She envisioned they could be happy and live together at Lallybroch. And perhaps, Jamie could have been Laird again. They could have been together again. But now it seemed all was lost and lost forever and the dream was dead.

The sun grew high in the sky as Claire cried on that dreadful hill. There was no concept of time in her misery. All she knew was pain. It was only when she realized that she had to get up, a spark of life came back to her.

Crying and collapsing isn’t going to save your children, Beauchamp, she told herself.

Perhaps, she had been knocked out cold and someone had taken them. Before they had left, she told both Ellena and Brian that they were going home to Lallybroch and she prayed they remembered the name of the estate.

It took every piece of strength she could muster together, but she got up. She swallowed tightly and brushed the leaves and dirt off her skirts and somehow found a way forward. Clutching the locket that held the pictures of her babies and imagining Jamie’s face gave her enough strength to take a step off the hill and to Lallybroch.


	7. Chapter 7

Lallybroch was not exactly how she remembered it as she neared the archway leading to the big house. The foundation seemed newer somehow and a little brighter, less worn by the seasons of Scotland.

Though memory was a fuzzy thing, she had learned. Sometimes you can remember something with crystal clarity, a moment forever engraved in your heart. But there are also the things that you idolized and reimagined over the years of fading sight.

Lallybroch may be the ladder. It had been around six years since she had seen it last. The final sight of her adopted family waving goodbye with the house behind them as she and Jamie rode off to try and rewrite history. How young and foolish they had been, but what else could they have done with a clear conscious? This was a memory of warmth and family. A place where she had lived with Jamie and loved with him. A home.

But now it seemed off. In her tight shoes, her feet throbbed and ached as she had had to walk a good way back here. A traveler had given her a lift in his wagon part of the way, but the last three miles were on foot.

Memories flooded her as she passed through the gates of her first real place. Jenny doing the washing, wee Jamie playing with the apples, Ian hobbling around. And Jamie. Dear god, Jamie.

The place seemed to echo an essence of her lost husband as if he were made in the bricks and the grass. His being was forever entwined here in his home and it felt like she breathed her first real breath in a very long time as she let the past come to her.

She was just inside the arch when she saw a little red head run out of the house. She gasped and her heart went immediately to her throat. It was her son. It was Brian!

They were safe! Relief made her speechless and her call to him came out as a hoarse yell that barely reached her ears. Picking up her skirts, she began to run to were he had disappeared in the bushes. 

“Willie!”

Claire stopped and turned to see a young woman with vibrant red hair come from the house. She took Claire’s breath away, she was tall and elegant and commanded respect even with her walk. Who was she?

She didn’t see Claire as she walked to where the little boy had emerged, looking very guilty with his wild red curls flying everywhere.

And as fast as Claire’s relief had come, it vanished. It wasn’t her Brian. A very similar look, but his face wasn’t her child.

No. No. No. No.

 

Claire watched numbly as the little boy ran to the red woman, curls flying with a few dogs trying to catch up behind him. It was a picturesque scene. A scene that was so utterly familiar it caused her heart to break even further.

How many times had she taken Ellena and Brian to the park and grassy areas where there wasn’t a soul? Places that reminded her of the images before her now. She had wanted them to love the country life as much as their father did.

Blinking, she noticed she was on the dirt, curled up into a ball. Her body shook all over from terror and grief. She was in the wrong time. It hadn’t worked.

The only plan she had left to save her babies was gone and ruined. Dear God, what had happened to them?

Had they gone to a different time all together? Did they get stuck? All of these terrible scenarios ran through her head like a horror film. And she could do nothing but stare blankly as it flashed before her eyes.

Or maybe…just maybe they had gone to the right time. Jamie’s time. 

The alternatives were too much for Claire to bear. Her whole being ached to wrap them in her arms and never let go. She could almost feel the heat from their hands around her.

“Madame?”

The soft voice made Claire jump as if she had been shocked with a live wire. The world before her was blurry from the tears that still lingered in her eyes, but as she looked up at the tall women in front of her, it all clicked.

The concerned blue eyes before her were of Ellen Fraser. Jamie’s mother.

“Are ye all right?”

Claire tried to force a word from her tight lips but her body was still reeling from the shock and she simply laid her head back on the ground and welcomed the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited, I know. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story! Also I just want to clarify the war Claire remembers in this chapter. It is a continuation of WW2, sort of. In this story, a war begins again after the twins are born and the war uses nuclear power.

“Where do you think she came from?”

“I have no idea, mo nighean ruadh.”

There was a long sigh before the voice began again.

“Her clothes are a bit…queer and she looked at Willie so strangely, like she had seen him before. It gave me a chill.”

There was a creek of the floor as someone moved to the other side of the room.

“And you’re sure ye have never seen her, perhaps at the castle when ye were a wee one?”

“No, Brian. I am sure. Lord knows where she came from, but she’s been through a lot, poor thing. We should look after her for now.”

“She’s English, leannain. Are you sure?”

“Yes, darling. Quite.”

The voices drifted in and out of Claire’s ear like distant waves in the ocean. She could hear them, but could barley distinguish them from the roaring in her mind.

Time went by slowly in her mind. She fought to grasp anything in the dark oblivion she was stuck in, groping for something familiar. A flash of red danced behind her eyes and suddenly she remembered.

“Brian!”

She sat up with a gasp in the large bed, hands flung out on either side of her. She had seen her son!

“You’ll be knowin’ my husband, then?” 

She jumped again when she heard the voice in the far left corner of the room and suddenly the dread that had made her so sick in the first place came back. It hadn’t been her Brian playing in his rightful home and it wasn’t Jamie sitting near her. It was Ellen Fraser currently sitting in the room, staring at her.

Ellen

Jamie’s beloved mother. Jamie’s mother who would die before she turned grey. One of the women she had named her daughter after. Another pain stabbed at her heart as she thought of her other lost baby. 

Ellena

In any other circumstance, Claire would have been awed and amazed at the chance to meet the famous Ellen. But seeing her meant that she hadn’t traveled to the right time. Seeing her meant that her children were lost, just like her husband. Jamie.

“I…no,” she stuttered out, racking her brain for an explanation. The aching pain from the crushing despair of not being with Jamie and her children made her voice rough and starchy with undeniable emotion in it.

Sweat formed all over Claire’s body and her heart pounded hard against her chest. She tried to take a few calming breaths to stop the panic.

Ellen’s head cocked to the side as she watched Claire fumble in bed, wringing the sheets between her hands and Claire suddenly felt that if she lied, Ellen would see right through her. So, she simply decided to tell the truth…with a few slight tweaks. 

“I thought that your son was mine. His name is Brian and he looks a great deal like your own boy.”

Named after your husband, she said silently in her head. She thought it best not to mention it. Claire didn’t think Jamie’s parents would accuse her of being a witch, but she wasn’t about to take that risk.

“Have ye lost your son, then?” Ellen’s brows drew together in concern and empathy as though she tried to imagine what it would be like to lose her own son. “Is that why ye are here?” 

Claire’s heart clenched at the though that she would know that pain all too soon, but was she to warn her? What would happen if she did share her knowledge of her fate and the fate of Willie, who would die of small pox in but a few years? Would she still have met Jamie? Would her children survive?

Clenching her eyes shut to block out Ellen’s face, she simply nodded. “Yes, my son and my daughter. I’ve…I lost them both.” The pain once more rippling across her body like a lash from a whip as she spoke.

Suddenly, she was surrounded by warmth, the smell of fire and red hair. Ellen threw her arms around her and rocked her back and forth like a child. The emotions of the past few days –hell the past few years – caught up with her and the soft touch of a mother caused her to fall apart into Ellen’s warm arms.

“Shush, lass,” she whispered in her ear while brushing her hair away from her forehead. “Be still.”

The feeling of her red hair and the sound of comforting Gaelic evoked a memory of a young man holding Claire on his lap while she fell apart after she fell through time. The man she had so desperately fought for and failed to find.

The image of his face that flashed before her eyes made her sobs come harder. The face she had seen in her –their– children so often.

She remembered the time when she allowed herself to fully see it in her mind for the first time since their separation years ago. 

 

With Japan and the United States going head to head in combat, the next thing that needs to be discussed is where the next atom bombs will be dropped…”

Frank sighed and punched the wall next to the radio in rage. Claire carefully reached out and turned the radio off before they both went mad. 

“I thought these bloody wars had ended! Haven’t they taken enough of our lives! FUCK!” 

Frank slammed the mantle with his fist, causing the photos of their family to wobble and shake. 

“Please, you’ll wake the twins!” She spoke in a hushed yell, glancing up at the stairwell to make sure they hadn’t woken. 

Frank’s hand immediately oozed with blood and his shoulders shook from repressed sobs.

Claire quietly walked over and laid a hand on his back lightly, feeling all the panic and despair she felt at the new war. The war to end all wars. 

“They say that the next bombs will be dropped in the northeast,” his voice was raw and his fingers curled around the wood of the mantle. “It’s only a matter of time. We need to leave. Take the twins and go.”

A tear fell down her face as she thought of leaving their home. The home that just finally felt a little like home. “There isn’t anywhere safe, Frank. The war will follow us wherever we go.” 

“But Canada is one of the only places that hasn’t been bombed yet, we could–”

“No,” she cut him off softly. He turned around to face her, face red and eyes glistening. She felt a pain in her heart that she couldn’t comfort him more, couldn’t be a wife to him, but that ship had sailed a long while ago. The only thing they could do now was be a comfort to each other. 

“Canada will be involved as soon as next week. No one can sit this war out, not with atom bombs flying around.”

Frank reached out and grabbed onto her tightly, wrapping his arms around her middle so tight that she fought for breathe. She tentatively returned the embrace, remembering a time when that kind of enthusiasm from him would have made her giddy. 

“I just…wanted better for them,” she couldn’t see his face but knew he was looking up at the stairs. “To not live in a time of such destruction.”

“I know,” she sighed, thinking of her children sleeping safe in their beds, as safe as they could be. Bomb sirens had been going off every day since last week, but nothing had come to the Boston area yet.

“Claire…there is one place safe,” Frank stepped back and looked down at his fingers, twisting his wedding band around, unable to look at her.

“Where could that…oh,” she blinked in shock at the suggestion. 

The past. The stones. 

She shook her head and went over to the window to gaze out at the dark street and pressed her forehead against the cool glass. 

It was four years ago that she had fled the past because of its danger and the fall out from another war. Always another fucking war. Jamie had begged her to see their child safe, but now the past seemed like a fairytale compared to the hell the world was in now.

For the first time since she had left, Claire allowed herself to see Jamie in her mind. The mop of messy red hair, his lake-blue eyes, so tender as they looked at her. And for one brief, shining moment, she thought of her children meeting their real father. 

But that couldn’t happen. He was dead. 

A spasm of grief rushed through her and she shook her head hard and turned toward the stairs without a glance to Frank.

“No. I won’t take them there and I won’t discuss this again. Goodnight, Frank.”

She climbed the stairs as fast as she could, leaving the image of the stones and the highlands downstairs and in the past where they would always belong.

Instead, she crept into the room where her children were sleeping, blissfully unaware of the danger that was around them. 

Brian slept on his back with his hands on his stomach and Ellena was on her side with both hands under her cheek. 

Carefully, she reached out and placed a hand on Brian’s cheek, tracing his full cheek and pushing the memory of the man he looked so much like aside. 

She walked over a few feet to her daughter’s bed to kiss her cheek and then walked to the door, gazing back at their still forms, cast in the nightlight. 

“I promise I’ll keep you both safe. No matter what happens.”

 

The thought that she broke her promise made her cry even harder, hiccuping with the effort. She had failed her children. Ellen smoothed a hand down Claire’s hair and made a hushing sound.

“I dinna ken who ye are or why ye are here,” she said while still keeping a close hold on her. “But I will help ye find your own bairns in the best way I can.” 

Her voice was warm like cinnamon and honey and her was skin soft like cotton and it was the first time Claire had felt safe in a long while.


	9. Chapter 9

“Daddy, will you tell us a story?”

“Ah, a story? Ah, well, let’s see…”

“Daddy, do you know where Mama is?”

“I dinna ken lassie, but I swear I will find her.”

“Do you pwomise?” 

Jamie looked down to see the bright blue eyes of his daughter, shining with innocence and trust. He saw his own reflection in her glass eyes and knew in that moment that he could never lie to her.

So, he answered strongly, “Aye, I do.” He reached down and brushed a curl from her warm forehead, she ran hot like he did. “I love you, a chuisle. Do ye know that?”

Ellena smiled and turned her attention back to her wooden pony that Jamie had carved for her. “Yes, I wove you too, Daddy.”

The trust that she had in him both made his heart swell so much that he thought it must burst out of his chest and also terrified him to the core of his bones.

He needed a way to never break that trust, which meant finding Claire and finding Claire fast.

Ah dhia, women. Where could ye be?

Jenny and Ian had sent word to Inverness and all other local villages to see if anyone had seen her. Jamie himself having been occupied by his newly restored son and daughter.

He had been itching with the temptation to go out and find her himself, but the thought of leaving the twins so soon after he had just found him physically made him hurt. Just the thought of it. 

They slept on either side of Jamie, cuddled close on the large bed. Jamie, consequently, hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last week, but he had never been so happy to be tired. Most of the night, he kept a candle burning and simply traced their features, marveling of the merging of his and Claire’s flesh.

Ellena had faint freckles scattered across her cheeks as Claire had during the summer months. He remembered her face in the sunshine in Paris as they laid in the grass together and how he would trace the small dots with his fingers, connecting them like constellations.

Brian had the small cow lick that Jamie had. He remembered Jenny and his Mam trying to get the stubborn patch of hair to lie neatly on his head when he would pose for his mother’s paintings. He had felt it himself as he smoothed his own hair back. He remembered the slimy feeling of fat and grease as he tried to get the hair to stay down for his wedding, wanting to look the best for his bride.

The hours went by like minutes. The nights turned to mornings and then the world started up again and Jamie got to see the children that he had made.

The twins fought and yelled and cried and smiled. They loved one another something fierce. Jenny had walked by them and smiled, glancing at Jamie before continuing on with her daily chores. Jenny shared his joy at the fruition of his flesh and the security of his bloodline through Claire.

But his palms sweat and his heart raced when they told him about the war-torn home they had left. Claire had felt this time would be safer for their family, but how could it be? Jamie didn’t want to ask toddlers about war and resolved to wait, but a few days after they had appeared, he realized he couldn’t.

Ian and wee Jamie had been moving crates in the front yard that they had built together. Jamie and Jenny had simply been marveling at the twins while they played.

But a sudden crash from a fallen crate outside had resulted in something Jamie found frightening.

Immediately, Brian shot up and grabbed Ellena’s hand before scurrying under the the table and covering their heads with their hands. The loud crash must have reminded them of something from their own time. It has taken Jamie and Jenny almost an hour to convince them to come out and that they were safe. 

And still, they clung to Jamie the rest of the day, burring their faces into his chest and weeping with fright. 

So, as Jamie sat, watching Brian play with his toy, he had to ask.

“Brian, you said that there was a war? That’s why your mam brought ye here, brought ye through the stones?”

He didn’t want to push his son into reliving bad memories, but he needed to know. He needed to have a clue of what their past was like. His son didn’t spare him a glance as he was too busy racing his horse across the floor as he answered.

“Yes. Lots of bombs and scary things.”

Jamir crossed himself briefly and said a quiet thanks to God that his children had survived such horror. He didn’t know what a bomb was exactly other than what Claire had told him before. He assumed they made a sound similar to the one the crate made when it fell by the twin’s reaction.

“That’s how our first Daddy went bye-bye.”

Jamie looked back down at Brian sharply. First daddy? Frank. Poor devil.

“Frank, ye mean, Brian?”

Brian made a sound of agreement, making his horse gallop and stride across the floor. Jamie didn’t want to push him any more today and decided to drop the topic and let his son be a child, not having to relive terrible memories.

He sighed and leaned over to pluck Brian’s tiny form from the floor, so soft and small, he held him close to his chest, against his heart.

“Ye ken that you’re safe now, son? You and your sister. I wilna ever let anything happen to either or ye while there is breath in my body.”

Brian’s eyes –so like his own– gazed at his for a moment, thinking.

“I ken,” Brian giggled, pleased at his mimicking of Jamie’s accent.

Jamie laughed himself as the squirming toddler, his red curls tickling his nose as he bounced against him in amusement.

Leaning his head down, Jamie kissed his forehead and squeezed him tight, breathing in the scent of honey and dirt. His son. 

Laughter from outside caught his attention and he saw Ellena chasing her cousins in the yard, flying through the garden as the sun shown down on them. The sun reflected all the shades of brown in her curls, dancing around her as she ran and laughed.

Tears glistened in his eyes as he watched and held his son, knowing this was all he had ever wanted in his life.

But the missing part of him still ached like a bruise that wouldn’t heal. He needed to find Claire and he needed to find her soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Claire couldn’t take her eyes off Willie as he saw in front of her, happily chewing on his bannock unaware of her gaze.

To Claire, he had always been Jamie’s lost brother. The one who had given him Sawny and the first child born to Ellen and Brian. He had never been a child.

But here he sat, flushed, fat cheeks of a two-year-old, simply content to watch his mother as she busied herself in the kitchen.

She eyed Ellen as she worked, with a special concentration on her stomach. If her estimation was correct, she should be pregnant with Jenny. Claire wondered if she knew about the pregnancy yet. There wasn’t but a small swell through her dress that Claire could see. 

“Mam! I want to go pway with Da!” Willie stomped his little feet in the air as they couldn’t quite reach the ground yet.

Ellen turned, her long red hair up in a tight bun, to her son and sternly spoke. “Ye havena finished yer porridge, a chuisle. After ye can go bother yer father all ye like.” 

Willie turned to his bowl at the table with the last few bites of porridge with wide eyes and a pouted lip. He then looked up at Claire with a sly smile and reached for his spoon. 

She said nothing as he proceeded to scoop up the last few bites and place them into her own dish. Clever lad.

“All done, Mam! Yummmmy,” Willie exclaimed with a giggle, covering his hands over his mouth to contain them as Claire laughed with him.

Ellen turned sharply around and eyed her son’s bowl before glancing at her. She quickly looked down to her own bowl, realizing now where Jenny and Jamie had gotten their hawk eyes from. 

She came over and fussed Willie’s hair with an exasperated smile. “Fine ye wee rascal, off ye go.”

Willie’s face lit up and in a second he had vanished out the door and into the the front yard. Claire looked after him with a smile, but felt her eyes prickle with the reminder of what she had lost – and needed to find.

But unfortunately, Claire had no idea how to do that.

“Canna sleep?” 

Brian Fraser’s deep voice startled her in the quiet house. He was watching her carefully while sitting on the large red chair beside the fireplace, a large book placed to the side. Obviously, he found watching her more fascinating.

Brian had been hard for Claire to read in the last week. He was direct but not rude. Quiet, but incredibly observant. While Ellen might have a quick response, Brian would wait and listen before speaking. He had sent out word about the twins, but she knew that it was a moot point. They weren’t here.

Brian had been observing her very closely since she appeared. Claire remembered telling Jamie that she wondered if his father would have liked her and now given the chance to find out, she wasn’t so sure she would like the answer. 

She came over and shook her head while taking a seat on the sofa, letting the fire warm her. 

“Did ye have a husband?” Brian asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Ah, yes. Yes, indeed I did…well, I think I do still.”

“I had thought he died, that’s why I was traveling with my children to find him when we got separated.

“I’m sorry, lass.”

“Don’t be, maybe I will still get a chance to see him.” 

“What is he like?” Brian asked softly and with kind eyes.

“He is incredible, compassionate, so smart, loving, gentle,” her voice got thick as he so suddenly became alive. It was as if she could close her eyes and envision him sitting right next to her on the sofa, cuddling her close as he had done so many times before on the very surface.

Claire wanted to tell him everything about his son and everything he had become after his death. She wanted him to know how good he was and how he had raised such a brave son. But the words had to die on the tip of her tongue. She could only use the comfort that, as a parent, their child would be the best they could be.

If she were to never see her Brian or Ellena again –and she strongly denied that in her heart – she would take comfort in the fact that they would grow up to be good people.

Tears filled her eyes as she fought them back, blinking up at the ceiling.

Seeing her struggle, Brian reached over and grabbed her hand on the arm of the sofa. “I will do everything I can to help ye, Claire. I swear.”

His hand was strong like his promise, a promise she knew he would never break because that’s how he taught his son. Feeling the flesh of her children’s ancestors, physically touching their past was something surreal. She knew she would always cherish this time, knowing Jamie’s roots and where those roots would grow in their children.

As his eyes shown true and she clutched his hand, she knew she had to leave. To stay and not warn the Frasers of their future. To not tell him to treasure every moment with his wife because the end would come too soon was torture. 

The truth that terrified her at night would still scare her tomorrow, but she was out of options. She must go back to the stones and pray that there is a God that will allow her to find her babies again. And with luck, Jamie. 

Frank seemed to have certainty that he had survived, but if there was one thing she learned from her travels, nothing was certain.

 

~Five Months Prior~

“Claire, please! Just liste–

“No!” She shut the bathroom door hard and flicked the lock. “I don’t want to hear!” 

Frank knocked on the door and let out an exasperated sigh. He had tried to bring this up three times this week, but she wouldn’t listen. She couldn’t endure anymore.

“Fine. I will talk through the door,” she heard him slide down the door to sit on the other side. “James Fraser wasn’t reported dead on Culloden or after the battle.”

Putting her hands on her head, she clutched her hair until the pain from the action distracted her from the pain of Jamie.

“He was a traitor two times over. He was killed,” her voice was icy and she hoped it cut him.

“You said it yourself…if he was a traitor two times over, then there would have been documentation about his death. Some kind of record.”

Shaking her head, she got up and turned on the faucet in the sink, splashing her face with cool water. “200 years is a long time, things get lost.”

Frank’s head shook against the door as he spoke up over the water. “Not something like that and there is something else.” 

Despite herself, despite all she knew about the situation and all that Frank didn’t, she felt a little flicker of something like hope. She wanted to beat it down where it belonged.

“An English solider. There was a personal note found that said he had pardoned an infamous highlander because of a debt he owed to his family. Does the name John Grey ring any bells?” 

Emotion bubbled over and tears overwhelmed her as she slammed open the door to met his gaze. Her face shocked him and he took a step back in instinct.

“WHY? Why the FUCK are you doing this?” She shrieked at him, hands itching for something to throw, something to inflict just an ounce of what she was feeling on him as rage swept through her body like a wildfire.

“If Jamie survived, which he bloody hell didn’t, how could you want us to go back? To leave you? To take the twins away forever? You would never see them again and would be stuck in this war alone. How can you want that?”

It was harsh words, but she could think of no other way to explain it to him. To get him to stop bringing it up for good.

He looked down at his feet, mouth moving as he searched for words. But she didn’t let him talk, not yet.

“Not to mention that we don’t know if the twins can ever travel at all,” she pushed past him and into the bedroom, glancing at the clock and praying the minutes would fly by so she could pick up the twins from their school. Frank wouldn’t speak about this with them home.

“And going through the stones is a horrific experience. Not something you can just inflict on babies,” she trembled at the thought of their innocent hands touching the cold stones that would turn their skin inside out. 

“Since when do you even believe my so-called fairytale, anyway?” 

Frank sighed and when to sit on the bed, a few feet away from where she stood, glaring at the floor. It was a wise move not to try and touch her. 

“I don’t know when I decided to believe you,” he confessed, picking at the flint on the bed. “And sending the children away would tare me in two. Perhaps, I can try to go through as well, but there is one thing I know for certain, they can’t stay here anymore.” 

She looked up to find his eyes pleading with her and her composure began to unravel again. Feeling from danger seemed to be her life with brief moment of peace. Feeling again would be hard, but was there anything harder than leaving Jamie?

“The school is due to shut down in a few weeks. After the allies are defeated, the future will be in black and white. Maybe they can have a life of color,” he eased up and put a hand on her shoulder. A sign of peace. 

“I think it’s worth the risk and if their real father is alive…well, they deserve to know him if they can.”

One tear fell from both their eyes, showing symmetry in their pain. Her mind flickered back to the name that her head had been repeating since Frank had said it. John Grey. 

He owed Jamie a debt alright, but could he have saved him from death? A Jacobite traitor? Taking a deep breath, she knew that Frank was right. They had to leave, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how hard it would be to face the stones again or to successfully travel and be met with Jamie’s grave.

But as a mother, she had to push it aside. Perhaps, they could have some peace at Lallybroch. Reaching up, she grabbed Frank’s hand on her shoulder, feeling the anguish of decision.

“Alright,” she whispered. “We’ll go.”


End file.
